Dungurra
by Sar-kaz-m
Summary: LZ. COMPLETE Short Story. Several years have passed since DarkStar was defeated. 2 members of our intrepid group have changed so, could they possible still recognize each other?


_(Taking place 6 years after the end of TRY)_

**Prologue:**

                Dungurra was a rather small provincial town on the sea before the Barrier fell.   The economy of the town had been supported by fishing, and very occasional trade with the nomadic people of the Desert of Destruction.  In fact, it was set so close to the Desert, that within a few hours sail north, you'd see only the high, unassailable cliffs of the Desert shoreline.  And then, in times past, you'd reach the Barrier, and you couldn't sail any further north anyway.   So Dungurra wasn't exactly a big tourist destination, perched on the edge of civilization, the last port before the Desert and the Barrier, and the edge of the world.

                Then the Barrier fell.

                And the Light came.

                For two months the light streamed through the sky, aiming north.   It was midway down in the sky, to the north of the town of Dungurra, and since it wasn't over them, or pointing at them, the folks of Dungurra didn't worry much. 

Until the earthshakes and tidalwaves came.

Fortunately, the town's harbor was well sheltered by a spur of land called simply "The Headland".  The waves turned the curved spit protecting the bay into an island, sinking the northern side that connected it to the mainland, but they also wiped out some of the more treacherous shoals in the southern pass into the bay, and for this the people were grateful.  With their improved harbor, Dungurra could manage more fishing.    But when word finally came about the significance of these events, the town was even happier.

With the Barrier down, Dungurra was suddenly the last port for the journey north to the Demon Peninsula, or the first stop south for ships from the Demon Peninsula.  Dungurra boomed with trade.   The farmsteads in outlying areas suddenly were rich plantations, being the last and first source of fresh food for the hundreds of ships sailing north or south.    As the first south port, Dungurra got a chance to see all of the wondrous goods of the kingdoms of the Demon Peninsula before anyone else.    And the town drew merchants, entrepreneurs, restaurateurs, mercenaries, politicians, and adventurers.

And Mazoku.

The first attack by a mad Mazoku leading a group of zombified beastmen shocked and horrified the people of Dungurra.  Fortunately, a sizeable force of out-of-work mercenaries, on their way north looking for employment, was in the town, and they managed to mostly repel the monsters.  There was a great deal of damage, but, thanks to several gentlemen with odd accents from the north who'd recently developed something called "property insurance" and forced most of the merchants of town buy into it, the people were well able to rebuild, using money claimed from the "insurance agents".   Those gentlemen were unfortunately unprepared for the amount of claimage they received from the attack, and went out of business shortly afterward.   More knowledgeable visitors from the north who heard the tale often remarked on Dungurra's luck in ousting organized crime, but the townsfolk never quite understood the congratulations.

The next attack came nearly two years after the earthshakes and waves changed Dungurra's fortunes.    A single Mazoku, powerful and angry, followed a pair of adventurers to the town.   Bravely, the two accepted the challenge of the monster, and cleverly tricked it out of town.    The people of Dungurra were already prepared to hail them as heroes, since they managed to keep the fight from causing too much damage, but then the young redheaded woman sacrificed herself, so they say, to destroy the monster.  The devastation of the final face off leveled a hill, sunk a valley, and created a new lake where one hadn't existed before.

Grateful that their town was spared, and ever impressed with both the adventurers' abilities in battle and magic, which was very new to the town, and with their heroism, Dungurra's people immediately built a monument as a gravesite for the deceased young sorceress.  They built it near the lake, on the edge of a copse of trees that survived the battle.  They also took care of the young man, the sorceress's partner, who was sorely wounded and in shock over losing her.   Dungurra's people treated him well, tried to ease his grief, and paid out of the Town Council funds for his passage back to his home in the Demon Peninsula.  

With the hustle and bustle of being a boomtown, Dungurra didn't remember the incident for long, despite the respect with which they'd treated the dead young sorceress and her partner, the tall blond swordsman.   Every day was busy for Dungurra, and though the area around the monument to the redheaded heroine became a combination picnic-park and graveyard, the purpose of the monument was but a vague memory within only a few years.

**Chapter One:**

                Irena Versein's Curio Shop was just up Hill Street from the corner of Hill and Main.  Main Street ran right down to the wharves of Dungurra, where the ships from South and North docked and unloaded their cargoes.  It made an easy trek from a ship to the shop, a trek that Irena made on a fairly regular basis.  Her shop specialized in unique and rare items, mostly from the Demon Peninsula.  Just last season, a shipment of mediocre gems allowed Irena to create a craze for "magical protective jewels".   No one knew for sure if the pretty gems now gracing most of the town's homes were really magical or not, but a savvy businessperson like Irena played up the mystery, then the demand, and rode that fad to a nice profit.  

                As for other business, not as many people realized that some of the things Irena sold were in Ceipheed-honest fact magical.  Even fewer realized the wealth of sheer information that Irena held, a valuable commodity for the many adventurers and fortune-seekers passing through Dungurra headed north or south.  Merchants knew Irena had a standing interest in obscure texts, untranslatable maps, tidbits of rumor and legends.  Travelers in the know knew to go to Irena for hints, information, and sometimes even outright directions to their goals.   She bought the texts for ridiculous bargains, and sold her information at a high price, and profited far more than the cramped little shop and the cramped apartment above could ever evidence.

                Irena herself wasn't much of a mixer, though when greeted on the street, she always responded pleasantly.   She had a few friends, though not one could satisfy the curious with the name of her hometown, or her tastes, or even her age.   She'd simply appeared in town one day, carrying a sack of goods.  She bought the building outright from its previous owners with gold coinage from all over the world, opened her store, and settled in.  Dungurra, like most small towns, was desperately curious about the young woman, but as a growing city, it didn't have the time to pry.  At most, people commented proudly that now Dungurra had a magic shop, just like the cities North, and left it for the most part at that.                  

                This particular fall morning found Irena just waking from bed.  She stretched and went to the mirror.  Picking up a brush, she began to groom her long chocolate-brown tresses.  A quick mutter and her eyes shined a pleasant hazel color.  She twisted her hair into a knot on the top of her head, and dressed for the day.  

                Her blue skirts swirled around her ankles as she trotted down the back stairs into her office.  She barely glanced at the desk.  No major cargoes were due today, so she could skip her usual trip to the wharves, and treat herself to a nice breakfast up the street at the Poor Monk Inn.  Tossing a light gray jacket over her white blouse and blue bodice, she left her building through the back door and walked out into the street.  

                Force of habit caused her to glance down to the harbor.  Irena noticed a single schooner entering the protected bay, a sea-crosser from the looks of it, but she paid it little mind.   Her nose already twitched with the fine smells emanating from Jenny's excellent kitchen at the Poor Monk Inn.  A nice moderate breakfast would start the day nicely.  

**Chapter Two:**

                From the deck of the sea schooner, the young man peered at the wharves and buildings of Dungurra.   He'd spent the last five years wandering the world, seeing sights no other had seen.  He'd traveled farther than anyone from the Demon Peninsula could have dreamed, and in that journey, he'd both found and lost his heart's desires.  Now, he made his way home, or rather, to those lands he considered home, to return an item and pick up his life as much as he may.  The bargain he'd made had both taken his burdens and given him new ones.  He hoped, faintly, that they'd not prove as heavy as he feared.

                The captain of the schooner had agreed to transport him to Dungurra for a nominal fee, but would not accept a commission to sail further north.  The young man had to try and find another ship to take him back to the Demon Peninsula, though the schooner captain assured him that Dungurra was an excellent place to find passage.  He'd also recommended an inn, being familiar with the town.  The young man intended to take a room at the Poor Monk as soon as they docked.

                The crew was pleased with the speed of the journey they'd made from the far Western continent.  They'd been nearly doomed by poor winds and tides on that edge of the world when the young man had booked passage.  His skills with magic had created winds when none natural would oblige them.  Still, he made the crew nervous.  They didn't try to make a friend of this young man with his haunted sea-colored eyes and his brown-purple hair.   Dragon-touched, they whispered to each other.

                If only they knew.  The bargain with the dragon-priests of the Earth Dragon King freed him from one burden, but gave him another.  Had someone told him years ago that he would become a Dragon Knight, he'd have actually laughed out loud.  But now…..

                He wiped a hand on his black trousers, palm sweaty with the worry that he'd not be free to live, but that some crisis would arise, and he'd be forced to act.  The hair that hung over the right of his face hung longer in the back, tied in a tail and beyond his shoulders.  He'd not worn his hair this long ever before, but he secretly reveled in it.  It brushed the collar of his cream shirt and the neck of his faithful pale gray cloak, clasped with the red stone he'd never give up.  He left the sleeves down, aware that his fair skin would burn in the sun over the sea, but had he rolled them up, the sinuous green tattoos of the Earth Dragon King that now curled around his forearms would seem to writhe in the light.  He was not as young as most people took him for.  The years of adventures and quest had hardened him in ways few would understand, but if one were to look into his eyes too long, one might perceive things one really didn't want to know.

                As the dock neared, the young man searched out the captain, handing over the last of his passage fee.  The captain thought to refuse, but the Dragon Knight had been determined to honor the bargain down to the last letter, so the captain dared not.  The Knight had been like a luck charm - calling winds, healing sick or injured crew.  Never had the journey across the sea gone so quickly or easily.  It would be a shame to anger the Knight, if his offensive magic was as strong as his useful magic.

                The helmsman bought the ship to a gentle stop at the wharf, and as ropes were tossed to mooring, the gangplank slid down to touch the stone.  The young man stepped easily down from the ship, slinging his satchel over his back and feeling again the pull of Earth.  He didn't so much as stagger as he strode off into the town.  The helmsman gave the captain a look of surprise.  Surely two months at sea would affect a man's stride.

                The captain shook his head.  "The Earth is his element.  I wager he couldn't stagger if he wanted to."

**Chapter Three:**

                Irena sipped the last of her tea.  Jenny's breakfast was as good as expected.  A few eggs, some bacon and toast, a bit of sausage, and fine tea really hit the spot in the mornings.  Somehow, a simple moderate breakfast satisfied her best these days.  Stretching, she left some coins on the table, and waved to the staff as she made her way out.  Irena would open the shop and cook the books for a while, to see what sort of day it was.  If slow, she might close up again and spend some time wandering, or maybe gossiping with Jenny and the waitresses.

                She didn't notice the young man as he walked up the street.  By the time he was clearly visible, Irena was unlocking the door to her shop.   She felt a prickle of presentiment along her neck, and glanced back, only to see the back of a young man as he entered the Poor Monk.  Shaking her head at her own foolishness, she began lifting the shades of the shop windows.  She'd not used much magic in several years, other than the simple illusion every morning.  Maybe the items in her shop were working on her.  She really ought to get a few of the Mazoku relics out of there.

                The young man glanced around the inn.  The Poor Monk was as respectable as the captain had promised.  To the right were tables, a few locals taking their morning meal there.  To the left was a large staircase up to the rooms.  Ahead, a friendly looking man was stationed behind a counter.  The young man moved to make rooming arrangements.

                "A room, preferably single, please."

                The innkeeper smiled.  "And for how long, good sir?"

                "Indefinite.  I mean to book passage north as soon as possible."

                "Well, we're not expecting anything northbound for near a week, though a couple south bound should be by in a couple of days.  Here you are - a front corner room, right next to the baths.  Would you be wanting a meal?"

                The young man nodded.  "Do you have coffee?"

                "Oh yes!  That northern drink is all the rage.  Just let the waitress know that's what you'd prefer.  Sign here, please, sir."

                The young man leaned over the book and wrote _Zel Stonewords._

A short time later, he finished the last bit of coffee in his mug.  The meal had been more than satisfactory, and though the coffee was not what he considered the best beans, it had hit the spot after two months at sea.   Zel smiled a little as the waitress cleared the plate.  He'd noticed her and her cohorts watching him.  There was a time when such stares would have bothered him a great deal.  Little did he know some of those past stares had been as admiring as these current ones.  "Is there anything of interest in the area a visitor shouldn't miss?" he asked politely.  "It seems I'll be here a few days."

                The waitress simpered.  This fellow was handsome with a capital H.  All the girls were peeking at him.  "Well, we've got a fine range of shops about the area.  There's a little museum with some relics down by the water.  Oh, and you might like Savior Park, if you like pretty bits of wilderness."

                Zel nodded, filing the information away for later reference.  He handed the girl a few coins for the meal, and headed upstairs to his room.

                The room held a few simple furnishings.  A bed, a table with two chairs, and a closet.  The window overlooked Hill Street.  He noticed the little shop diagonally across the street.   The window proclaimed it as "The Curio Shop" and a familiar six-pointed star was carved into the sign over the door.  Maybe he'd check it out later.  Unhooking his sword from his belt, he laid it on the table and stretched out on the bed.  For the first time in two months, he didn't feel the waves under him.  It was restful enough that he dozed off.

**Chapter Four:**

                Irena sighed.  Not much of a day at work today.  The locals knew that the best time to stop by was right after a cargo ship made a delivery, so no one came in today.   But, since it had been so slow today, it couldn't hurt to knock off a bit early.

                She locked the front door and pulled the shades.   A quick shuffling of papers cleaned up the counter, and she left the books on her desk in the back office as she headed up the stairs to her living quarters.  

                The main room above the shop appeared snug and comfortable.  A small cooking area stood against one wall, opposite a brace of shelves containing books that some Northern scholars had spent lifetimes speculating about.  Irena would never sell these books, this private collection.   Next to the egress of the stairwell was a door to her small bedroom.  The only item of significance in there, besides the bed, sat under a small window framing a boring view of an alley.  The chest sitting under the window gleamed in the faint light working its way through the panes of glass.  It was made of highly polished wood, with runes and glyphs carved along its edges.  With a sense of odd nostalgia, Irena wandered over to the chest and laid her hand on the lid.  She whispered a complicated series of unlocking spells, and lifted the lid.

                Topmost in the chest lay a smaller, velvet-lined box.  It held four identical items of power and obscurity.  Irena's fingers trailed over the box, but she didn't open it.  Beneath the velvet-lined box were folded items of clothing that Northerners would recognize as the common 'uniform' of a successful sorceress.  Magenta tunic and tights were carefully folded with sachets of herbs.  A black leather cloak with jeweled shoulder-guards lay beneath that, cleaned and mended after one last battle.   A pouch of jewelry and random coins, saved for their sentimental value, was stuck off to one side of the chest.  

                Irena reached under the back of the cloak, her familiar fingers finding the latch to a secret compartment.  Despite all the wealth stored under this roof, this one compartment contained her most treasured possession.  She retrieved the tiny black box and opened it carefully.

                Someone peering over her shoulder might expect a stunning jewel, or a perhaps a medallion of some sort.  But the only thing contained in that hidden box was a simple ring of braided lavender wires.  Yet Irena treated it as if it were the most precious item in the world.  Sighing, she slipped the ring on her finger, gently caressing it with her other hand.  For nearly seven years she wore this ring hidden under her gloves.  But lately she kept it hidden away, her hope dead after so many years.  Only fitting since she herself was basically dead.

                With another sad sigh, Irena slipped off the ring, and replaced it in its hidden space.  The chest was closed, and locking spells whispered over it.  Rising, Irena stretched her arms over her head and considered her options.  She could have a bath, or a meal, then maybe curl up with a good book.  She had few wants anymore.  Food didn't compel her as it once did - her appetite had waned with her lack of magic-use.  She knew all her books by heart.  She was even as wealthy in this career as her last, enough that wandering and treasure hunting lost their appeal.  She'd cleaned out every cache in the area in her first few months of residence anyway.   Crossing to her front windows in the main room, she observed a few locals headed into the Poor Monk.   Perhaps some socializing would lift this odd mood.

                Discarding the notion of changing, she trotted down the stairs again and left her building through the rear again, adding a protection spell to the lock.  Through the alley and into the street, she waved at a few more locals heading in the same direction.

                "The lads play tonight, Irena!" One fellow called to her.  She nodded in acknowledgement.  Several local boys played lively music in the common room of the Poor Monk two times a month.   She began to anticipate some good music, a measure of ale, and some friendly gossip.  Irena was satisfied with her current life.  Sure, it wasn't as exciting, but not nearly as dangerous.  She'd never lose the people of Dungurra the way she'd lost so many in her life.  

**Chapter Five:**

                Zel woke to pleasant laughter and the sound of music.   His stomach growled and he wondered if he could still get a meal.  Sometimes, he forgot to pay attention to his body.  He hadn't had to for so long.  Ten years.  The words rippled through his mind.  Shaking his head, he resisted the chill that accompanied the thought.  No longer did he have to hide his face.  No longer did townspeople stare or point, or tighten grips around pitchforks.  On the other hand, he couldn't take a blow the same way anymore, though he healed almost as fast.  Nor did his speed create a blur of gale-force wind.  Yet the advantages of carrying a piece of the Earth Dragon King made up for lost abilities.  The fact that he could look in a mirror without flinching again, that he could smile at a woman, that his palms were calloused and his face tanned, gladdened his heart.  And soon, soon he'd be back in his homeland.  He'd seek out the one woman who laughed through his dreams, grinning with devil-may-care eyes, and he'd be able to smile back, and, if he was very, very lucky, take her into his arms.

                He kept the thought that he may have already lost her to another squashed deep down in his mind.  

No promises had been made.  He hadn't even given her one idea of his devotion.  But, now, looking into a mirror with a wry half-smile on his lips, he couldn't help but hope.  Maybe this was just a new quest to replace the old.  But it also might be the quest that could define the rest of his life.

                Zel flipped open his satchel and pulled out a blue shirt.  He shouldn't have slept in the cream one, but it needed a wash anyway.  Maybe the inn offered laundry services as well.  He'd have to remember to check.  He pulled the thong out of his ponytail and shook out his hair.   It still gave him a certain sense of glee to pull a regular brush out of his bag, rather than a jeweler's tools.

                Changed and combed, he left the room, leaving a minor locking spell on the door.  He rarely bothered with keys, since any lock can be picked, as he well knew himself, but even a small crack in the spell would alert him to a problem.   He also left his sword behind.  Though he found that the strength of the earth made up for the strength of a golem (that those two weren't entirely different never crossed his mind), his magic was sufficient.   Down the stairs, he found a lively gathering of local folk chatting, eating, and listening to a few young men playing tunes from a platform near the kitchen door.   Zel commandeered a small table near the back.  Before long the other chair was borrowed away by someone, and he was left in relative peace.   He may have changed outwardly, but some habits died hard.  He told himself it was simple tactics, that a wall at his back was safest.   He tried to mix more with people, but sometimes he felt a bit overwhelmed.  Fortunately, this gathering wasn't too large.

                Zel waved down a waitress, ordering whatever was hot and a mug of beer.  "Is a night like this usual around here?" he asked.

                "Only when the lads are playing.  More folks'll be in later to dance."  She gave him a suggestive smile.  "Even us girls get a chance to kick up our heels when the lads play."

                Ignoring the not-so-subtle invitation, Zel sat back and indicated she could bring his meal.

                May smiled happily as she wound her way back towards the kitchen.  Some of the other girls caught her eye, sending her expressions ranging from jealousy to conspiracy.  May's luck was admired tonight - she would serve the handsome stranger.  She hurried over to where Jenny stood in the kitchen doorway, chatting with Irena the magic-shopkeeper.

                "Jen, I need a big bowl of stew and a mug of ale!  Quick now!"

                Jenny was a tall hefty woman of middle years, well able to run a busy inn kitchen.  Her eyebrows merely lifted at May's happy and hurried tone and she turned to go ladle up her famous beef stew.

                Irena gave May a small smile.  "You look happy."

                May grinned.  "I lucked out tonight.  There's a new fellow staying at the inn, a traveler, here for a few days, and I get to serve him tonight."

                Irena's smile widened.  "Serve or service, Miss All-The-Way May?"

                May accepted the laden tray from Jenny and winked at Irena.  "If my luck holds out!"

                Jenny chuckled as the waitress hurried off.  "All the girls are in a flurry over this fellow."

                "Handsome?"

                Jenny smiled.  "Lets just say if I were still a buxom serving girl, I'd be in a flurry too!"

                Irena's curiosity was piqued.  She craned her head to see where May had gone.  The only glimpse she got of the handsome stranger was an impression of dark hair and fair skin.   She was about to dismiss the matter as minor when the stranger looked up.  Somehow, his eyes seemed to catch hers across the room.   Added to her earlier impression were apparent bright blue eyes that caught the light, intense and haunted.  Adventurer, her mind instantly assessed.   And something else.  Driven, or rather, someone who knew what it was to be driven.  The thought was so startling, it reminded her of a painful past, and she looked away.

                Something on her face gave her away, for Jenny asked, "What's the matter?  Ghost at your back?"  The phrase was a common term in Dungurra for an unexplained shiver.

                Irena shrugged it off.  Today seemed a day for memories.

                Zel nearly did a double take over the face of the woman across the room.  The shape was almost exactly that of the face he cherished, but framed by deep brown hair instead.  Silver drops framed the face, not gold orbs.   She stood in better light than where he sat, and as she turned her head, he thought he noticed pale eyes.  Hazel, perhaps.  Odd, that a woman could look so like….

                Catching May's attention, he asked "The woman by the door to the kitchen?  Who is she?"  

                "That's Irena.  She keeps the magic shop.  Northborn, they say."  She paused, then said, "You'll be wasting your time, stranger.  Irena keeps herself to herself, you know?"

                Zel's expression turned cold.  "I'm not that sort."

                Chastened, May responded hurriedly, "No, of course not."  She moved off as soon as possible.  She'd have to let the girls know that there might not be any slipping upstairs with this one.  Shame, really.  

                Zel realized he might have frightened the girl.  He still had difficulties remembering it wasn't him against the world anymore.  He should have taken more time with the dragon priests, but they weren't really suitable for human interaction either, though their quiet, philosophical ways had suited him.  The beastfolk of the far west weren't much practice either.  Their females wouldn't flirt with a furless human.   Maybe he would ask May to dance, as practice, though not to accompany him upstairs.  For one thing, he was somewhat saving himself, and for another, it didn't seem that sort of inn.

                Sighing over his rusty interpersonal skills, Zel watched as diners became drinkers and dancers.  He supposed that without ships in the harbor, a late night couldn't harm the townsfolk's business.  Almost two hours passed as he nursed a mug or two of ale.  Finally, the number of dancers grew to thrice the number of listeners.  May wandered by, collecting empty mugs and new orders.  Zel caught her eye and beckoned her over.  She approached a little warily.

                "I'm afraid I might have startled you," Zel said.  "I guess I've been too long at sea."

                May smiled, instantly relieved by the excuse.  "Sure.  A fellow's either wild or shy after a long berth."

                "Well, I'm shy.  But maybe you'll let me make it up to you?  With a dance?"

                May's grin could have split her face.  She wasn't a beautiful girl, but pretty enough to make the men merry.  "Just let me get these back," and she nodded at the tray of empties in her hand.  "A reel?"

                "If you want your feet pummeled."  Zel feigned humility.  Actually, he knew most of the dances he saw done on the floor.  "Can you get them to play a nice two-step?"  The simple rhythm-walking dance was common for poor dancers.  But Zel knew ways to liven it up.

                May simpered.  "I'll give them the wink."  She bustled off to ditch the tray.  A two-step!  Well, he couldn't be perfect.  She shoved the tray at Bert the Innkeeper, who took barkeep duties after the kitchen closed.   "Tell the lads a two-step!  I've got me a partner!"  She hurried back to Zel's table.

                Bert grinned at Jenny and Irena as he signaled the band.  The effect the new visitor was having on the girls was the juiciest bit of gossip that evening.  And now, things would really liven up, since the fellow seemed willing to be social.

                As the tune started, Zel expertly swung May into the dance.  Anyone could two-step, but to do it really, truly well and smoothly took skill.  Soon, folks were just watching as he steered May through spins and turns, making the dance as complicated as it could get.  May laughed with delight.  She felt a fair way to being in love with this stranger.   After a few minutes, the song ended, and folks made a point of complimenting May and Zel on the performance.  Several fellows asked May to dance, intent on showing the popular waitress that locals danced just as well as visitors, thank you.  

                Politely responding to all the comments, Zel made his way over to the kitchen.  He greeted Bert the Innkeeper pleasantly.  "Since I seem to have lost my waitress, may I have a mug of ale?"

                Sitting nearby, Irena's spine suddenly stiffened.  The voice was so familiar, so deep and melodic.  But it couldn't be.  This guy didn't look anything like him.  

                Zel collected his ale and moved off.  He glanced at the woman he'd seen earlier, now chatting with the kitchener woman.   Brown hair, hazel eyes, a conservative blue outfit.   Pretty, but she seemed to lack any fire.  He bet himself that she was a very competent merchant.  She had that look about her, success without ostentation.  He remembered May's comment  - keeps herself to herself.  Maybe he should test himself and ask the shopkeeper to dance.

                Soon he was drawn into conversation with a few older men.  He answered as few personal questions as he could, telling a few basic stories about his travels.  They soon gleaned that he was from the North, headed there, and began to ask questions about it.  The talk turned to magic not long after.

                "Wanderer like yourself, ye must have some knowledge."

                Zel quickly weighed his options, and decided if they were so eager and pleased with all things North, then he'd oblige them.  "I have magic." He acknowledged.

                The men were all delighted.  "Show us a bit?"   

                Zel glanced around.  He had quite a group around him, older men, matronly women, all normal people who just seemed interested, not concerned.   He noticed the kitchener and the shopkeeper watching.  Well, it couldn't hurt.  He set down his mug.

                "Lighting."  In his hands, an orb of light formed.  It shimmered white and pale green, touched by the power of the Earth Dragon.  Suddenly, he knew that he should not be afraid.  These people were good, and could be taught that magic can be good too.  He could almost hear the Earth Dragon whispering advise to him.

                The people gasped and laughed.   As he let the spell fade, one man tapped his arm.  "What's that?" he asked, indicating Zel's arm.  The tattoo was just barely visible through the light shirt, as a shadow.

                Ten feet away, Irena's mouth dropped open.  The spell had felt so, so familiar.  The power seemed like an old friend.  Who was this stranger?

                "Later."  Zel brushed off the question.  "So, tell me about Dungurra.  A thriving town like this, you must have some stories."

                Soon the men were vying to tell the most interesting tale about the town's growth and happenings.  It wasn't long before one told a story about a northern sorceress and her swordsman partner.  "Destroyed the demon she did, but died herself in the battle.  Shame really.  Town built a monument to her, out where she fell."  But none took the time to describe the sorceress or her partner, nor did any mention their names.

                Irena felt so unsettled by the memories of the day and the familiarity of the stranger that she left the inn almost immediately after his demonstration.   She hurried back to her building, and upstairs.   She stared around her room a moment, then sighed.  Days like this didn't happen often.  She thought herself settled into this life, this identity.  She even named herself Irena in her mind.  Nearly four years was enough time to become a new person.

                Changing, she carefully hung her clothes in the small closet in the bedroom.  Her lips twitched a bit as she looked at her wardrobe.  Grays, whites, blues.  Maybe she did hang on to some of the past, wearing his colors day in and day out.  I should pick up something in another color, she thought.  Green perhaps.

                She wandered back into the main room for one last glance at the street.  The inn still seemed lively.  Suddenly exhausted, she sought her bed.

                Zel managed to break away from the conversations.  The townspeople seemed pleased to know him, interested in his magic and his stories.  It was strange to be so easily welcomed, yet it justified to him all the years of searching and isolation.  He had been right - to be accepted by the human race, he had to look human.  No matter what the quest may have cost him.  

                The pretty shopkeeper had disappeared.  He felt a bit sorry he hadn't asked her to dance right away.  She'd reminded him so much of someone he'd missed terribly, that he felt the urge to hunt her down.  Still, her shop stood nearby, and he felt certain he could meet her tomorrow, if he wanted to.  Fending off other waitresses and friendly folk, he climbed the stairs to his room, feeling tired by the crowd.  This human interaction took a lot out of him, since he was so very out of practice.  He tried to remember what he had been like before his life had plummeted into hell.  

                Once in his room he stripped off the shirt and trousers and pulled on his ubiquitous blue pajamas.  Maybe he ought to get new ones, but these were so well broken in, he didn't want to give up the comfort.  He never realized how very soft and warm the blue flannel cotton had become, spending so much time being rubbed by stone.   Now, he doubted he could ever find another pair as comfy.

                As he swung the shutters of the windows closed, his eye caught the light of another window.  There, in the second story of the magic shop, the figure of a woman in a nightgown stood framed.  She seemed to bend with loneliness and dejection.  Zel thought he could guess how she felt.  He'd been there himself.  Finally latching the shutter, he fell into bed.

                Little did either lonely person know that each had caught the melancholy attention of the other.  And each had caught malignant attention as well.

**Chapter Six:**

                The next day saw three cargo ships sail in from the North.  Irena rose early and slipped a note into her shop window, _Closed for Incoming Shipments._  Not only did she expect some interesting items on the ships, but also she knew the captain of this particular mini-fleet well, and could glean news of the North from him.

                Over hot tea in the cheap sailors inn by the docks, she grilled him for information as his crew offloaded crates.

                "Well, lemme see," Captain Janus said.  "Sairuun got its harbor through treaty with the Kingdom of Zoana.   Seems the Queen of Zoana and the Crown Princess of Sairuun are quite the pair."

                Irena rolled her eyes but kept her comments to herself.

                "Zoana crown has another heir.   New princess.  Named her Lina.  So now we got a Prince Vrumatin and Princess Lina.  Rumor has it the new princess was named for the Dramatta, of all people!"  He laughed himself at the thought, not noticing Irena's shocked reaction.  "Princess Amelia is God-mother to the new babe.  Hmm, what else?  Republic of Sairaag is rebuilding nicely.  Nearby Duke tried to annex the lands, but Sairuun supported it.  They say Zefilia's grapes are recovering so well from last year's blight that the wines from this year will get near three times the price!"  

                "Great for them.  Now if you could only get me a case…."

                "Next trip, Irena, I promise.  Now, Elmekia has been a bit quiet.  There was talk that the Emperor had been assassinated, but as word is he appeared at a gathering in Zefilia, I guess that's a lie."   Captain Janus went on for a while, but it wasn't until he wound down a bit that he got to more interesting news.   "That Lina Inverse was supposedly spotted near Sairaag, traveling alone.  Folks say that a town was blowed up and three bandit gangs applied to a Ceipheed temple for protection.  High Priestess Syphiel of Sairaag gave it to them, but they gotta start on as Temple guards under her husband."

                "Who's she married to?"  Irena asked sharply.

                "Eh?  Dunno.  Some ex-mercenary, but they say he'd been the Swordsman of Light.  Not that anyone can say if he carries the sword or not.   Mazoku attacks are way down in that area, though.   Few more beastmen ships docking up there too.  Sairuun gives 'em sanctuary."

                Then the second mate came in, to let them know that Irena's goods were loaded on a mule cart.  Irena bade farewell to the captain, paid him his fees, and headed back for the shop.  She'd gotten quite a bit, in goods and gossip.  Back at the shop, she paused and seemed to stare at nothing.  So, Sylphiel got him.  Good.  And Amelia was well and successful.  Irena sighed.  She'd known that disappearing would be best for all concerned.

                Zel had risen with the sun.  The inn did have a laundry, but as he had only one pair of trous and two shirts, he'd better come up with something else to wear first.  He'd hit the street to see a major bustle at the harbor.  Three ships unloaded crate after crate of goods.   Hmm, mental note:  see the harbormaster about passage north.   He checked the Curio Shop only to see a sign -- _Closed for Incoming Shipments.  _Maybe later.

                Finding a simple dry goods store, he went about getting a third set of clothing.  In about an hour, he left the store wearing brown trousers, a new cream shirt, this one with a high collar that opened on the side, and a green sleeveless tunic over everything.  He left the new shirt unbuttoned a bit, enjoying the breeze, and the tunic unlaced.  His twin belts hung over his hips, supporting his sword.   He hurried back to the inn with his bundle of old clothes to get them washed.

                The Curio Shop was still closed.  He thought he could see the keeper inside, checking boxes.  Well, he was stuck in Dungurra for at least one more day, so he could wait.  He wandered out of the town to the east, just looking around, and generally enjoying being normal.  Not too far down the road, he found a graveyard.  Spearing the sky in the middle of the field stood a large stone obelisk.    Curious, Zel wandered through the field to stand before it.

                Magic symbols carved at eyelevel marred the fine stone surface.  He smiled a bit at them, for they had no meaning in any magical tradition he knew, not even divine.  And he'd recently learned quite a bit of divine magic.  He recalled the story from last night about the sorceress who'd died.  This must be the monument.  Apparently, the town of Dungurra had a short memory, and a shorter attention span, for moss clambered up the sides of the stone, and weeds grew tall around the base.  Clearly, no one took care of the heroine's grave.  

                He knelt down to push aside the weeds, to read the inscription on the obelisk.  He wondered if he'd recognize the name.  

                Zel froze, his breath caught in his throat at what his eyes could barely make sense of:

                                                _Here Lies Sorceress Extraordinaire Lina Inverse_

_                                                Who Died While Destroying the Demon Xellos_

_                                                And Saved the Town of Dungurra With Her Sacrifice._

                Inanely, all he could think for a moment was "They misspelled Xelloss."

                Two miles away in Dungurra, Irena shot to her feet and looked around.  Ghost at her back, indeed, as Jenny would say.  On the Demon Peninsula, they'd say someone 'stepped on her grave.'

                One corner of Zel's mind observed that a disadvantage of being human again was that he could cry again.  Expressionless except for the tears running down his face, he reread the inscription again.  Years ago he had been called Zelgadis Graywords.  Years ago he'd wandered the world in the company of Amelia, Princess of Sairuun, Gourry Gabriev, and the powerful sorceress Lina Inverse.  For the last six years, he'd searched for a cure to his cursed form, claiming the reason was his horrible visage.  In truth, his reasons were far more emotional.  He couldn't bear to allow himself to declare his passion for Lina Inverse until he could face her as a human man.  That goal was met, and for her he'd gone by 'Zel', her nickname for him.  For the Earth Dragon King he'd changed his surname, but she had to know him, should she hear of him.  And now, his hopes, his dreams were destroyed.  If Xelloss wasn't already gone, Zel could have hunted the Mazoku down himself and killed him.   

                "No."  Zel whispered to himself.  "No.  This can NOT be."  Cutting off his tears, he had a mad idea.  If it were true, his life was over.  Even success in his quest could not replace the loss of Lina.  But if it were some falsehood, some trick, then he would hunt for Lina, find her, beg her for her hand.  Standing back, he raised his hands and began his spell.  The tattoos on his arms glowed as he called on Earth.

                "_Earth below me, flesh of this world, reveal your secrets to me!"  Like waves, the dirt over the grave moved back, and the Earth itself pushed a stone coffin to the surface.  The name Lina Inverse was carved into the lid.   Zel stood a moment, staring into it.  If he opened this coffin and saw her there, he'd fall on his own sword.  If not, his purpose was renewed.  Calling the strength of the Earth to his limbs, he lifted the lid and set it aside._

                Nothing.   Not even dust lay in the coffin.  Even had she died four years before, her remains would be clear.   A sudden mental image of that lithe form stilled, that glowing hair dulled, those eyes closed forever, made him shudder.  Yet his fears were unfounded, for the stone sarcophagus was as empty as the day it was made.  Feeling the iron bands around his heart loosen, Zel lifted the lid back into place.  Raising a hand, he cast "_Earth below me, be disturbed no more.  Resume your sleep._"   The coffin sank, soil reformed, and even the grass and weeds resumed their places.    He stared a moment longer at the monument, then turned back to the town.  The magic shop owner must know.  They always did.  He'd get to see that woman if he had to break the door down.

                Irena finished up the last of her inventory and pricing.  Good stuff here.  Some of the weapons were prime pieces.  A couple of cheap enchantments, and she'd make a fine profit.   She looked out the windows of the shop.  The sun already began to sink for the day.  It wasn't worth opening.  Tomorrow would be busy, and the day after another ship came in from the North.  Looked like she'd have a good week after all.

**Chapter Seven:**

                Zel peered into the windows of the shop.  He couldn't see anyone moving in there.  She didn't even open today?  He grew angry as he wondered what to do.  He needed to talk to her!  He needed to know the whole story, the true story.  Only a priest, a mage, or a magic-shop-keeper would know, and he was certain that the town priest wasn't a magic user, there was no mage, and this woman wasn't anywhere to be found!

                He was just considering using a Ray Wing to check the upstairs when a sound drew his attention.  Looking down to the harbor, he saw something which would terrify any normal person living by the sea.  

                The sound grew into a thunderous roar as an enormous tidal wave raced into Dungurra's harbor.

                It towered over the ships and docks, and the sloping shore where stood the town.  Just as it seemed about to crash down, drowning the now screaming and terrified denizens of Dungurra, a giant form seemed to emerge from the wave.  Man-shaped, standing in the foaming waters of the bay, its featureless face seemed to scan the town.  A dark tear appeared in that watery visage, and a voice like the howl of a hurricane emerged.  "**Come to me, Dragon Knight!  Face me, puny warrior of a weak, miserable God!"**

                Zel Stonewords rushed to the corner, but stopped before he was spotted by the demon.  It never did to look like one was unprepared for a Mazoku.  Lina had taught him that.  Capeless, and normal-looking, he stood and summoned the power of Earth to him.   That caught the monster's attention.

                "**Ha!  Now, mortal, be destroyed!  My Master will not suffer you to live!"   The monster reached out, its arm elongating as its giant hand came closer and closer to Zel.**

                The roar alerted Irena to danger.  The charge of evil power rippled through the astral plane, and Irena instantly ran for the window.  Her view was only that of Hill Street, but she heard the monster's challenge to the Dragon Knight as she flung open the panes.  She saw the figure of the handsome stranger lodging at the Poor Monk race for the corner, the stop and compose himself.  She felt the power growing around him, divine and mortal at the same time.  But the aura was unmistakable!

                "Zelgadis."  Her heart leapt, her muscles tightened.  He lived!  He lived, and stood beneath her, on her own street, in this nowhere town!  And he faced a demon!!  She heard the demon threaten him.  After this, she HAD to know how Zel managed to piss of a minion of Deep Sea Dolphin.

                Flinging her leg over the ledge, she cried "_Levitation!_" and floated down to the street just as the demon struck.

                As the hand came down to flatten him, Zel cried "_Desert Wind!_"  The spell wrapped him in hot, dry winds, evaporating the water fist as it struck.  Steam billowed all around him, the outer edges forcing water away.  The giant arm was severed, but it reformed as it withdrew.

                "**Clever!  But you cannot stand against me!"**

                Rather than be defensive, Zel wrapped himself in a Ray Wing and flew toward the monster, taking his attack out over the harbor.  He was weaker when not standing on land, he knew, but he wasn't too concerned.  The power of the Earth Dragon King sang in his blood.

                The Mazoku dodged, and laughed.  "**You cannot win on water, Earth Dragon Knight!"**

                Sneering, Zel responded, "Even the ocean has an earthen floor!  _Earth below me, submit to my will!  Vlave Howl!_"  His added strength sent the spell deep into the ocean floor.   Subterranean faults cracked, and the tidal wave sank into the water, rolling and boiling as it met deep ocean lava flows.  The underwater chasm sucked the water down, and as more water rushed in, the sea leveled.  Zel touched down on a stone pier as the sea demon seemed to dwindle.  Still it came on.  

                Soaked from a quick steaming, Irena raced down the hill to the harbor.  She saw the tidal wave sink, felt the power of Zelgadis's spell.  What had happened to him?  He was human again, he had more power than ever before!  Was he really a Dragon Knight now?  That would make him as powerful as she had been, maybe more so, maybe as powerful as Luna!

                The sea demon tried to envelop him, to drown him.  Zel almost shook his head at its stupidity.  He cast another Ray Wing around himself.  The demon tried to crush the spell around him, trapping him.  And yet, it might work.  Zel had to pay attention to the spell, keeping it up as the evil power pressed in.  Soon he realized he'd fallen for a simple ploy.  If he tried anything else, the Ray Wing would collapse and he'd be crushed.  Even if he didn't, he'd have to keep the spell up forcibly, and eventually he would tire.  He tried to work his way out of the demon form, but he couldn't.

                Irena saw the trap.  Geez, Zel, what were you thinking?  Summoning skills dormant for years, she cast "_Flare Arrow!_"  The shamanist spell imbedded into the demon form.  The monster roared, and the blank face turned to her.  A pseudopod of water slapped at her, but she dodged easily.  "That all you got?" she taunted, her old fire coming back to her.  "Not in MY town, buddy!"  she cried.  "_FIREBALL!_"

                The fireball erupted on the water demon like a pot boiling over, but on an enormous scale.  Townspeople ran for cover, either screaming in fear, or amazed at the sudden change that had come over quiet, self-possessed Irena Versein.   At least she was still calling it "her town"!

                A weak spot!  Zel forced his way out of the demon's form, landing rather hard on the pier.  He saw the shopkeeper woman dancing out of the way of another slap from the demon.  "Get back!  You'll be killed!"  He yelled to her.  She glanced his way only a moment, then dodged again.  

                "Well, do something, hot shot!"  She yelled back.  She sounded so familiar…

                "_Elmekia Lance!  Elmekia Flare!"   He cast, riddling the Mazoku with astral attacks.   It shuddered, but started directing its attacks to the town.   Zel knew people would start dying soon.   He jumped to a patch of dirt, the nearest natural earth, drew his sword, and began his spell.  _

                What the heck is he doing?!?  Irena thought.  She knew she had to let it be his show.  The recognition and reckoning would come later.

                "_Power of Earth!  Sustaining and supporting, god who nourishes and provides!  Give me the power of your mighty mountains and deep valleys!  Wrap my blade __with your strength!  Earth Vine!"    A green aura leapt up around Zel as he raised his blade.  Green light ran up it, and a wind that smelled like summer whipped his hair up and around his head.   Leaping into the air, he aimed straight towards the demon._

                Like an Astral Vine, only better!  Irena nearly applauded.

                Zel impaled the demon on his sword.  He only forgot one tiny detail - earthpower and waterpower are nearly as inimical as fire and water.  The explosion resulting from the release of those powers sent water raining over Dungurra.  The deluge soaked the town.  Roofs leaked.  Basements flooded instantly.   Streets turned into rushing rivers as the water rushed down to the sea.  Zel himself was blown far up the slope and landed hard, on his back, in some trees.   Had anyone asked, he'd have sworn that every bone in his body broke.   As it was, he was unconscious by the time he hit the actual ground.

**Chapter Eight:**

                The babble of voices around her couldn't distract Irena.   The townsfolk wailed at the water damage done, as homes flooded and the ships in the harbor were nearly scuttled by the deluge.  But Irena had only one thought as she wrapped a fast Levitation around herself and flew up Main Street -- _Zelgadis!_

                Just past the edge of town, she noted some birds swooping about, crying in agitation.  He must have fallen around here, she decided.  Into the trees she plunged.  In only a few minutes she found him, unconscious and battered, lying amongst some bushes.   From the amount of bracken and broken branches around him, she judged that he'd had a rough landing.  

                Carefully, she checked his pulse.  How exciting, to touch warm skin where once there was only cold stone.  It occurred to her that she'd never before had to check to make sure Zelgadis still lived.   He always handled himself.  Well, except for that time in front of Hellmaster, but that was a unique situation..... Ah, yes, heartbeat was steady and strong.   She ran her hands over his arms and legs to make sure nothing was broken.  In that, she did find a broken leg, a fractured arm, his left shoulder completely dislocated, and there might be broken ribs.  Blinking a little at her own rusty skills, she cast healing spells.  Irena was surprised at how fast the healing worked.  Opening her senses a little, she learned something very, very interesting.  As her healing spell moved through him, earth energy followed, completing a healing which would normally have been rudimentary at best.  Zelgadis might even wake up.

                But no, even when she stopped and watched the earth energy finish the job, his eyes remained closed.  Irena had to wonder if he'd figured out that he just can't take the beatings anymore.  Fool, to give up that sort of protection!  And yet, the man who laid before her seemed as different as the Zelgadis she remembered as any total stranger.  Very little about him looked the same.  His hair was darker, nearly brown, with only a hint of the purple she knew.  Certainly the tanned and weathered skin differed from blue stone by miles.  Even his face seemed squarer, more masculine, and his ears were perfectly normal.  It never occurred to her that his old nearly elfin prettiness might have been the result of his chimeric state.

                Shaking her head at herself, she cast Levitation around him and headed back towards town.  She'd leave him at the Poor Monk, and go home.  Maybe this wasn't Zelgadis after all.  Maybe this was a copy.  Maybe her nostalgic fantasies of yesterday had warped her mind.  

                And maybe, she couldn't go back to being Lina Inverse, anyway.

                Back at the Poor Monk, her entrance with the floating body of Dungurra's newest hero caused an immense stir.  Bert quickly led her to Zelgadis's room, with Jenny hustling along behind.

                "I've healed him, but he's still out.  Probably you should just let him wake up on his own," Irena stated flatly.  

                "At least he lives!"  exclaimed Bert fervently.

                "And you!" butt in Jenny.  "Never a hint that you had the magic."  She started shaking her finger in Irena's face.  "Why didn't you ever say anything?"

                Irena's face had no expression.  "Magic never brought me any good."  She said.  As she turned to leave, Bert called out after her.

                "Should we let you know when he wakes?"

                Irena didn't answer.

                From his seat beneath the waters of the harbor, a single malevolent presence nodded to itself.  So, the rumor was true.  Lina Inverse, the destroyer of the Mazoku, was indeed hidden in Dungurra, not dead of her wounds.  How it longed to laugh, if it could.  She'd given herself away in battling the water demon and healing the Dragon Knight.  And now, it could sweep away both enemies in one stroke.  The being known only as Shark headed back out to sea to report to its mistress.  

**Chapter Nine:**

                _I feel like complete shit.  _

                That was Zel Stonewords' first thought upon waking.  Still, he wasn't nearly as hurt as he'd thought he'd be.  Someone must have healed him.  The Earth would do its part, but only if guided.  

                _The shopkeeper woman.  He remembered her assistance during the battle with the water demon.  Her magic and her voice had seemed so familiar.   Suddenly galvanized, he rose from the bed.  How he came to be in his room at the Poor Monk Inn didn't even concern him.  Girding his sword and flinging his cloak over his shoulders, he hurried down the stairs._

                Many people were in the inn's common room.  As he made his entrance, voices rose up, asking how he felt, congratulating him and thanking him for saving the town.  He shrugged off their words, muttering that if he hadn't of come, neither would have the demon.  He accosted Bert by the counter.

                "The shopkeeper... um, Irena!  She brought me back, right?"

                Bert nodded in surprise.

                Armed with that information, Zel headed out of the inn.  Across the street, the Curio Shop was dark, even the upstairs windows.  But Zel marched right up to the door and pounded on it.

                "Come down!" he yelled.  "I must speak with you!"

                Irena watch him leave the inn and cross the street.  All evening she'd waited by her window.  She knew that as soon as he woke, either Bert or Jenny would tell him who'd brought him back.   From the shadows, she saw him approach the store, and heard the blows against her door.  Stepping away from the window as he yelled, she glanced at herself in the mirror.  Brown hair.  Brown eyes.  A simple skirt, blouse, and bodice.  Her past self was dead.  The man she'd secretly loved was dead.  This person below was not who he seemed, despite the name written in Bert's logbook.  This was a curse, a horrible trick.  Self-convinced, and self deluded, she took her time going down the stairs.  

                Zel stopped pounding when he spotted movement in the shop.  He knew a curious audience peered from the inn behind him.  He waited as she calmly came to the door and unlocked it.  

                "Come in.," she said.

                As the door closed behind him, the room fell into nearly total darkness.  The shades were drawn, and she made no movement to turn on a light.

                A silence stretched between them.  Finally, Zel spoke first.  "You fought, you helped me.  Then you healed me and brought me to the inn.  Why?"

                The woman's voice was steady.  "I helped because it seemed necessary.  I healed because you needed it.  I bought you back because, well, I couldn't very well leave you in the woods, now could I?"

That last had a touch of exasperation to it.

                Blinking, Zel thought it had been a very long time, but he seemed to know the voice.  "Your name." he demanded.

                "Irena Versein."

                He shook his head in denial.  "_Lighting!"  The green-white glow lit the room.   The woman stood nearly ten feet away, her back against the counter.  Zel took in the color of her hair and eyes, the very demure outfit.  Her eyes flashed at him.  She was not pleased at the lighting._

                She's hiding something, he thought.  Quickly, he cast, "_Flow Break!_"  But just as fast, she countered.  "_Burst Flare!_"  

                Momentarily blinded, Zel didn't see the effect of the Flow Break.  As he dropped the arm he'd instinctively raised, he saw she held a perfectly controlled Fireball in her hands.

                Voice shaking in anger, she snarled "Get. Out. Of. My. Shop."

                Smiling a little at the proof-positive before him, Zel responded, "No.  I won't."

                Infuriated, Irena began yelling.  "I don't care who you are!  I don't care what you think!  I want you to GET THE HELL OUT OF MY LIFE!!"  She flung the Fireball at him.

                Zel simply held out his hand and let a wave of divine magic flow out from his palm, dissipating the Fireball.  Irena stared at him.  "No one can do that."

                "I can. Now.  Am I really so changed.... Lina?"

                Her breath caught in her throat.  "How?"

                He smiled again.  "No-one controls a fireball like you."

                "Who....?"

                Zel blinked.  "Don't you recognize me?  Lina!  It's me - Zelgadis!"

                She shook her head.  "No!  NO!  Zelgadis is dead!  He went into the desert!  Xelloss killed him, so I killed Xelloss!"  Her carefully constructed world of denial shattered.

                Zel crossed the room and grabbed her shoulders.  "Lina, Lina!"  Brown hair, brown eyes, but this was still the amazing, powerful, fascinating woman he knew.  And he could see she was about to become hysterical.  Daring greatly, he slapped her.

                She froze for one brief instant, then her fist came around like lightning.

                Rubbing his jaw, Zelgadis looked up at her from the floor.  "Well, OK, you can still punch as good as you used to.  And if it makes you feel any better, it hurts more now.  And you'll note your hand isn't broken, for once!"

                Lina -- Irena no longer -- stared at him, then burst out laughing.  She flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around him.  Her hug nearly cracked his ribs so recently healed.  "Zel!  Zelgadis!  You're alive, you're cured, you're here!"   She planted a kiss right on his lips.

                Zel's blood sang at her touch, but as soon as Lina realized she was kissing him, she leapt five feet away and turned bright red.  Yet she couldn't stay away from him.  She grabbed his arm, yanked him to his feet, and hugged him again.

                "Where have you been?  When did you find your cure?  Where did you go?  Where was your cure?  WHY THE HELL DIDN"T YOU LET ME KNOW YOU WERE OK?!?"

                Prying her arms off him, Zel took both her hands in his.  "I'll tell you everything!  I swear!  But you have to tell me what you're doing here.  Why are you hiding, Lina?"

                Serious again, Lina sighed and said, "You better come upstairs.  This will be kind of a long story."

**Chapter Ten:**

                Cups of tea in hand, the two settled into Lina's couch in her small apartment over the shop.  Grinning impishly, Lina reached out and brushed the ubiquitous lock of hair away from Zel's eyes.   He flushed at her touch, and ducked his head.

                "Well?  You start," Lina said.

                "Talk about long stories.  OK, well, I went into the Desert, what, seven years ago?"  She nodded.  "I didn't find anything.  I just went south.  Tried the temple of the Fire Dragon King.  They were, um, LESS than helpful."  Zel flashed her a smile, remembering the damage they'd caused there.  "Eventually south became west.  I've walked all the way around our world, I guess.  In the Far West I found the Temple of the Earth Dragon King."  Setting down his cup, he turned back his sleeves to show her the tattoos on his forearms.  "They did help.  They called on the God himself.  I cut a deal."

                Lina's eyebrows nearly hit her hairline.  "I take it that's the short-short version?"

                Zel nodded.  "There's too much for one night.  Anyway, in exchange for my human form, I had to accept part of the Earth Dragon King into my soul.  Now, I'm .... well, not entirely human still, but enough.  I'm also 'on call', as they put it.  Should I be contacted by one of the templars, or the Ceipheed Knight" -- Zel noted Lina's shiver -- " I have to do what they say.  But other than that, I can go on with my life.  And, um, the most important thing seemed to be getting home and getting in touch with you, um, and everyone."  Zel took up his tea again.  "Now you."

                Lina sighed.  "About two years after you left, Xelloss came.  He pestered and pestered us, me and Gourry.  Finally, he started hinting that he had a secret I might want to know.  I just blew him off, sure he just wanted attention.  Gourry and I decided to come south.  Xelloss followed."  Lina's voice became flatter.  "He found us here, and announced that the Mazoku decided I was too dangerous to live.  He said -" She swallowed, "- he said that I shouldn't mind dying, since then I'd finally see you again.  He told me he'd killed you for sniffing around Hellmaster's citadel."

                Zel blinked.  "Xelloss didn't seem to mind my sinking it into the sands!"

                "WHAT?!?"

                Zel waved it away.  "Another long story.  You go on."

                Lina glared a moment.  With a shrug, she continued, "So I went a bit ballistic at that.  I guess I was careless too.  I mean, if you were dead, then I had nothing to lose, right?" Zel blinked at that, but she didn't notice. "So I took him on.  Gourry helped as much as he could, but in the end, I wasted Xelloss with a Ragna Blade, but the backlash of a higher-up like him really blasted the place.  I guess Gourry couldn't find me.  When I woke up, I healed myself and came into town.   I heard that I was dead!  Well, I guess I didn't want to ruin everyone's expectations, since they were calling me a hero and all.  So the townspeople sent Gourry home, and gave me a monument, and I went on my merry way.  Spent some time wandering, studying, wasting bandits and monsters.  Eventually, I got tired.  I mean," she shuddered, "I didn't have anyone left anyway, so being me didn't really seem to have any point.  I settled here.  After all, I'm buried here."

                Zel waited a moment, then took one of Lina's hands.  Her story had shaken him; to think that she'd fought Xelloss over HIM!  But that meant.... that she......  "I think.... I think we both know something, that, um, maybe we don't really have to go into tonight."  His eyes met hers.  "Lets just be glad we're together, here, and go from there, OK?"

                Lina stood.  "Hang on a minute."  She darted into the bedroom.  Zel heard her moving about in there, muttering.  He tried NOT to imagine anything.  A few minutes later, she reappeared, standing in the doorway.

                "Lina...."

                The illusion had been dispersed.  She'd rubbed the dye-remover through her hair, restoring it's natural red.  She still held the brown-stained towel in her left hand.  And on her right hand gleamed her most treasured possession.

                She dropped the towel and returned to the couch.  She held out her hand to him.

                Zel's jaw dropped a bit.  "Is that my...?"

                Lina nodded.

                Zel looked into her eyes a moment, then drew her hand up and gently kissed it.   He let go, and they just smiled at each other.  Sighing, Lina picked up her tea and leaned back.   They settled in, shoulders just touching, sipping their tea and exchanging happy glances.

                A pale hand, nails painted blue, waved over the crystal, sending rippling currents flowing.  The blue-haired woman, pale and translucent as a drowned corpse, nodded to herself.  Nearby, Shark waited, then asked, "My lady, should I go back to observe?"

                Another nod.

                With a flip of his tail, Shark was gone.  Another pass of the hand over the crystal, and the figure of a blonde woman clad in white appeared in its wavering surface.

                Like the hissing of retreating surf, a voice whispered, "_Beastmaster........_"

                **TO BE CONTINUED........?**


End file.
